


You Dream

by Skadiis



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Dragon Age Kink Meme, M/M, Mpreg, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 21:42:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9679889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skadiis/pseuds/Skadiis
Summary: Fill for Dragon Age Kink meme prompt:Fenris dreams he is pregnant with Hawke's child.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Link to the prompt on LJ: http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/13010.html?thread=50821330#t50821330
> 
> Not Beta'd, so if you see anything feel free to talk to me.

You are drifting, drifting in the green, until it is no longer green, and you are sitting in Hawke’s front parlor, and Orana is pouring your tea. You don’t like tea—have rarely had the chance to drink it—but you crave it now. Hawke is sitting next to you in a plush armchair that you don’t remember him owning. He is looking over some correspondence, and you can see his name written at the top of the paper, because you asked him to teach you how to read his name. He is laughing about something, and you are afraid to ask if he is laughing because the letter is actually funny or because he’s scared. 

You’re scared. Though the day is pleasantly hot and you are free, there is fear creeping it’s way up your spine like darkspawn. It’s inside you, tainting you, coloring the bright day dark.

You take a sip of tea, and the noise of the china Leandra purchased chinking against itself draws Hawke’s attention. He grins, not his normal boisterous grin, but the small boyish one that he saves just for you. 

“Feeling okay?” he says. 

You nod, because you feel fine. Your brands don’t hurt as much as they normally do; they are only a faint twinge present at your joints and back. You have no pressing injuries, no cuts or bruises. You rest your hand on your belly and smile back. You are still shy about smiling at him, because it softens your whole face. For so long you’ve been tense, controlled and reserved. You had to be perfect for master, had to always keep an eye out for mercenaries and slavers, had to keep an eye on Hawke. But Hawke can make your relax in a way you’ve never been able to before, and sometimes you’re still not sure if you like it. 

There is a flutter beneath your fingertips, a rolling in your stomach, and you realize your midsection is swollen. No, not swollen, pregnant. You are carrying a child—Hawke’s child. It was a surprise, an unexpected gift that has lead to happiness that you’ve never imagined possible. 

Hawke’s hand is covering yours now, searching out the fluttering kicks with rough fingertips. His skin is so much lighter than yours, despite his tan. You draw your hand out from under his and place it on top, guiding him to the right spot. You draw away, running your fingers through the coarse dark hair that covers his hands and arms. He is chuckling, commenting about your little warrior, claiming that child must take after you with a fussy nature. 

You want to cry, because you are so happy, but it hurts so much. 

Will the child be a mage, like Bethany, Hawke muses, or be as strong as you are? Will they look like him, or have your coloring? Will they do the impossible and get along with their Uncle Carver? He has been wondering for the longest time, making up stories about your child. You are sure that Varric has borrowed a few for his own stories. 

You are just about to tell Hawke that his voice only makes the child more excited when you wake up, cold and alone. You can hear the wind rushing over the hole in your ceiling. Your brands ache, like a burn that has already happened and is raw and upset. Your stomach growls, but it is otherwise still and quiet. You are tense, and your neck and shoulders are stiff.

You remember. You remember that you are not free, and that you have a healing bruise on your shin and a cut on your left hand. You remember Hawke’s boyish grin just for you, and the hurt on his face when you left. The hurt that is present in his eyes every time that he has seen you since. You remember that there is no child, and no reconciliation. You remember that you want him, but you cannot have him, not now. 

You remember that happiness that hurts so much but is so worth every hurt. 

You close your eyes and go back to sleep.


End file.
